


Horizon

by Cohens_Girl



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Domestic, Fluff, Great Big Balls Of It, Hope, Kuzuryuu Being An Adorable Grump, Love Confessions, M/M, Sleepy Boys, Souda Being His Usual Insecure Self
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-26
Updated: 2017-01-26
Packaged: 2018-09-20 02:10:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9470753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cohens_Girl/pseuds/Cohens_Girl
Summary: This doesn't feel like atonement, any more.(In which those three immortal words are uttered, and things go right for Souda, for a change.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Would not have even considered this pairing if not for Quassia and their plethora of utterly awesome awesomeness. 
> 
> By all rights, this fic should not exist. Essentially my hard drive went kaput and killed this along with 150 other fics I'd been working on over the last five years. Honestly, a little part of me died – just sat there staring at the black screen of death. I didn't for a moment consider that they would be retrievable, because even sticking the whole thing into an external hard drive yielded nothing. But my better half, by some form of wizardry, saved every single one of them and popped them on a USB for me with the words, “It was important to you, so it was important to me.”
> 
> If that's not a reason to post a hope-filled, sickly-sweet Danganronpa fic, frankly, I don't know what is.
> 
> I haven't actually seen the anime, so at the moment, this is a canon post SDR2 ending. 
> 
> Warnings : Boys kissing boys. Some bad language - Fuyuhiko is in this fic, after all. The italics at the beginning are taken from the song Real Love by The Beatles (or Tom Odell).

 

 

 

 

 

 _Just like little girls and boys_  
_Playing with their little toys_  
_Seems like all they really were doing_ _  
_ _Was waiting for love_

 

 

 

 

The sun rises over an empty island.

Dappled light filters between the gap in the curtains; it lays in molten pools atop the bedsheets, casting tangled limbs in a halo of silvery-white. Particles of dust float and shimmer in the air like faeries, struck through with a singular beam.

Souda hums, sighs, yawns, his hair a wreck across the pillows. Consciousness slowly permeates sleep - alerts the teen to the static, humid heat, the distant sound of gulls. Eventually, with great reluctance, he reflexively cracks an eye to take in the scene around him : the stillness, the warmth, the boy dozing in his bed. All things considered, it could be a lot worse.

He begins to move.

Kuzuryuu grumbles, fingers clenching tighter around his waist. It's an order, rather than a plea - _don't you dare fuckin' move –_ but there's too much to do these days, no time for lazy mornings.

There's a whole world to put back together.

The irony, so far as Souda is concerned, is that he is far more useful in this new landscape than he ever would have been in the old one. Perhaps even the most useful, given his ability to repair what's been broken - to build something out of nothing. Bolts and screws and scrap metal are his lifeblood and there are heaps of them here, all waiting to be moulded into something new; it's – _comforting -_ to wake up every day and know that he has purpose, that he's salvaging something from the ashes of their old world.

Not that he's glad things turned out this way, exactly, but...

Well. It's a thought that gets him through the difficult days - the notion that he's needed, that he _means something_.

Of course, that isn't to say that he wouldn't prefer a few more hours in bed with a certain blonde boy. How could he not, when Kuzuryuu is being so _sweet_ and nuzzling into that little valley where shoulder meets collar-bone, offering sleepy kisses, comfortably inhaling the scent of Souda's skin? It's unbelievable and completely bat-shit _insane_ but running his fingers over the baby-soft hairs at the back of Kuzuryuu's neck, it's hard to argue that this particular moment is anything less than perfect.

“Gotta get up, babe.” He murmurs, voice still hoarse from sleep; the pet-name is enough to get Kuzuryuu to roll away from him in a huff, rumbling with drowsy irritation. Souda pauses, then leans over and rubs the other boy's belly, just because he can; it's still kind of a surprise, sometimes, that Kuzuryuu doesn't get angry and throw him off the second Souda starts touching him. He scritches at the little path of scruff that trails down, down, down -

Until Kuzuryuu swats at his hand with a grunt that clearly says _if you aren't gonna stay and finish the job, don't bother to start it, bastard._

Souda reckons his inner-Kuzuryuu is starting to sound pretty damn lifelike.

“Fiiiiine.” He sighs, beginning the long, laborious climb out of bed and into his clothes. “Spoilsport.” All right, so he's baiting Kuzuryuu on purpose – it's not like he wants _attention_ , y'know, he's just making sure the guy is awake, is all – but that doesn't stop his squawk of surprise when a pillow hits him squarely in the back of the head. When he looks back over his shoulder to fix the other boy with a glare, however, he finds Kuzuryuu propped up on an elbow, sheets puddled around his hips, tantalisingly low; he's smirking, eyes half-lidded, watching Souda like a predator sizing up his prey.

Souda clears his throat and pulls on a t-shirt, suddenly very aware of his body and the heat flushing across his chest.

Kuzuryuu just chuckles.

Asshole.

Stepping into a pair of plain, blue overalls and tugging them up to his waist, he throws one last furtive glance at Kuzuryuu – and yeah, he's still looking entirely too pleased with himself - before tying the arms around his hips and grabbing his trusty wrench off the bed-side table. He has a sudden, urgent desire to do something embarrassing like kiss Kuzuryuu on the cheek or tell him just how good he looks.

Like the other boy doesn't blatantly know that already.

He doesn't do either of those things, just half-shrugs at nothing in particular while Kuzuryuu lazily pulls on a pair of boxers, trying desperately not to stare at that long stretch of naked skin. He wants to say something like, _I never knew a guy could be so beautiful -_ but of course he can't actually _say_ that 'cause, _jeez_  and besides, Kuzuryuu would hate him for it, anyway. Instead he scratches the back of his neck and mumbles,

“See ya later, yeah?” because they've got a good thing going here and he doesn't want to ruin it by being all...Y'know.

Kuzuryuu narrows his eyes and hums an affirmative : he might as well have the words _SOUDA YOU IDIOT_ stamped across his forehead in luminous neon letters.

Souda pulls restlessly at his hair in lieu of saying anything else, getting it into some semblance of order before he heads out. Wrings his hands a couple of times before he eventually acquiesces and puts his glasses on, the world coming back into full, razor-sharp focus.

Months later and the weight still feels unnatural, heavy on his face.

He throws a last, self-conscious smile at Kuzuryuu and then heads for the door; this next bit, well – as dumb as it is, it's the best part of Souda's day. It's like clockwork, Kuzuryuu's voice ringing out just as Souda's hand reaches for the door-handle,

“Oi. Souda.” It's been the same, this routine, so many days before today – and yet the colour still rises in Kuzuryuu's cheeks, adorable frown-lines bunching up between his brows. He averts his eyes, grumbles, “I'm fuckin' - proud of you.” as if Souda is purposefully dragging it out of him.

Souda knows better.

He's as grateful for the words this morning as he has been every other morning, eyes watering, heart swelling, shit-eating grin fixed firmly on his face; Kuzuryuu scoffs and folds his arms across his bare chest but Souda isn't fooled. They need this. The little things – well, they aren't so little, any more. Reminding each other where they have been, _what_ they have been, the things they are trying to change...it helps. That they have made it this far is nothing short of a miracle and it doesn't hurt to acknowledge it now and then. After all, despair doesn't just happen to a person; it creeps up on you, if you let it.

They won't let it happen again.

He's meant to say _you too_ : that's the script. Except that Kuzuryuu looks at up at him, expression uncharacteristically shy, and he half-smiles – this, this fragile, awkward, sincere little thing - and staring back into those bright hazelnut eyes, Souda finds himself wanting to say something else, something _more._ Something that will express just how lucky he is to be here, how fucking _blessed_ he is to have this guy beside him every step of the way; to actually be some kind of whole.

He shouldn't be. He knows that. He should have broken long before now, should have splintered into a thousand irreparable pieces; would have, too, if he'd woken up alone. He wouldn't have even _tried,_ not like he's trying now – he would have given in to that shattered sensation in a heartbeat. After all, it's what he deserves, what they all deserve.

Isn't it?

After all, this is meant to be atonement, right? He's _meant_ to be suffering, meant to wake up every day feeling wretched and miserable as punishment for all the dreadful, unspeakable things that they did. He has days like that, sometimes - but even when he opens his eyes and hates every single inch of himself, Kuzuryuu is there - and then...And then...

This doesn't feel like atonement, any more. It feels like...

“I love you.”

…

Shit.

He just had to go and open his big mouth, didn't he?

Souda can't even _imagine_ how deep a shade of crimson his cheeks are but they feel like lava, so hot that they could burst into flames at any given moment. His throat closes up, clenched in a vice grip of panic.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

His whole body is rigid, almost as if staying completely still will somehow allow him to pause time and not _completely destroy everything_ by saying something so damn _big_ way, way too soon. It's not like it's a lie – he really does love Kuzuryuu, couldn't explain the sting of electricity that he feels at the sight of the other boy, or the enveloping warmth that has taken up permanent residence in his chest, in any other way.

But what if Kuzuryuu doesn't love him back? No, scratch that, why the Hell _would_ Kuzuryuu love him back? Souda is _Souda_ and Kuzuryuu is _Kuzuryuu_.

The room is deathly quiet. When Souda dares to look, Kuzuryuu is blinking silently at him with an expression that can only be described as flabbergasted.

Souda grapples blindly for the door-handle, whimpers,

“Sorry!” but finds the exit swiftly blocked when two hands appear either side of him, holding the door firmly shut. Souda flinches hard enough to rattle the wood, body curling inwards instinctively.

“Idiot.” Kuzuryuu growls, though it isn't all that menacing; in fact if anything, it actually sounds rather gentle - maybe even a little choked. “Tch. Don't apologise. I mean -.” He hesitates, but his eyes are bright and wide and he doesn't look angry. He doesn't look angry at all. “You know I love you too, right?”

 _No_ , Souda thinks but he nods dumbly because it seems like the right thing to do. Kuzuryuu sees through him anyway, same as always; shakes his head and mutters _stupid_ , kissing Souda before he can complain – it's fierce, possessive, the other boy biting down on his lip and gripping his hips hard enough to bruise.

It's a little intense, but – it's good. It feels good. A lot better than being socked in the face, anyway.

He settles a hand tentatively on Kuzuryuu's jaw, another flat on the bare skin just above the other boy's heart and lets himself be kissed. There's no patience or pre-amble, just Kuzuryuu trying to claim every part of his mouth as if to prove that it's _his,_ somehow, only pulling away to suck fervently at Souda's throat, biting at his clavicle and just about knocking Souda's glasses off in the process.

Souda hisses _easy_ and Kuzuryuu mumbles something that sounds suspiciously like _fuck off_ and brings their lips together again, ostensibly to shut him up – presses his body into Souda's hard enough to hold him in place, chests crushed into one seamless whole, heart-beats leaping in tandem.

When they break for air, Souda rests their foreheads together, tries to remember who the Hell he is and what he's meant to be doing that isn't simply this.

Right. Fixing the world and all that jazz. He sighs, marvelling at the way Kuzuryuu's nose scrunches up and how impossibly endearing it is, annoyed that he couldn't have saved his little outburst for like, this evening, when they could totally – _express themselves -_ properly.

“I really gotta go, y'know?” Souda hopes his disappointment is obvious.

“ _Idiot_.” Kuzuryuu snarls, again, this time more emphatically. “You just said you _love me._ That's - kind of a big deal.” His gaze slants away, uncomfortable, hands fisting in Souda's shirt. “Ten fuckin' minutes aren't going to make a difference.” Even as he says the words, however, Kuzuryuu begins to pull away; his eyes are dark and his pupils are blown, irises lost in a well of black. Souda doesn't know what to say. Why do movies always cut to black after the confession and the kiss? Why is there no awkward silence or shuffling from foot to foot, no flushed cheeks, no avoiding eye contact? They could've at least included _some_ clue as to what he's meant to do _now_.

Souda grabs Kuzuryuu's fingers and squeezes them, probably too hard. Kuzuryuu huffs a laugh and finally looks up at him, twisting their joined hands until their fingers properly interlace.

“You're so bad at this.” He says bluntly, but there's a touch of fondness to his voice, like Souda's an idiot but he's _Kuzuryuu's_ idiot and yeah, that's - he can accept that.

Just so long as Kuzuryuu knows he's bad at this too.

“Hey!” Souda cries, using his free hand to poke Kuzuryuu in the chest. “You looked _horrified_ , man.”

“Tch, I did _not-_! Not...horrified, just. Surprised. I –. I wasn't expecting you to say it first, asshole. I was...kinda. Ugh, fuck.” He looks away and blushes. _Hard_. It is quite possibly the cutest thing Souda has ever witnessed. “I was workin' up to it.” Souda giggles because he has no hope of articulating the mixture of joy and disbelief that's currently trying to burn a hole through the stratosphere of his brain. Kuzuryuu pulls a face. “You are so embarrassing.”

Souda shrugs, decides to play the cards he's been dealt.

“Well, maybe, but _you_ love me for it.”

Kuzuryuu tries to scowl, smiles despite himself and then promptly shoves his face into Souda's neck.

“Must be outta my fuckin' mind.” He declares, muffled by Souda's skin; he takes the sting out of the words by placing a quick kiss on the underside of Souda's jaw and _damn,_ Souda might just have to stay in bed all day after all.

As if on cue, Kuzuryuu pulls away, tugging at Souda's t-shirt to straighten it out into something a little more presentable.

“All right, dumbass.” He says, trying to look all scary and stuff, like Souda is gonna fall for that now. “Go build some shit.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Souda grouses, rolling his eyes and wearing his best fake put-upon expression. None of this makes sense – there's literally no way he's earned any of this, like, _seriously_ – but he's not about to look a gift-horse in the mouth or whatever. Kuzuryuu is staring at him like he's the worst and possibly the best thing in the world, all at once, and it's the only look Souda ever wants to see on his face, like, ever, ever again. He settles his hands on Kuzuryuu's waist, smiling so hard his cheeks actually _hurt._ “I, uh, I do though.” He says quietly, “Like – love you. Y'know?”

Kuzuryuu's whole body softens under his hands, just a little.

“Yeah. I know.” He nods to punctuate it. His eyes look a little misty. “And I swear to God, if you don't get out right now, I'm gonna pin you to that bed and never let you go.” Souda blinks. Leave it to Kuzuryuu to make something romantic sound absolutely terrifying. “Okay?”

Souda squeaks an affirmative, quickly pecks Kuzuryuu on the corner of his mouth and then fumbles for the door behind him. He really _does_ have stuff to do today.

Outside, the sun is high in a sky of endless blue and the world is gilded in golden light. The air is fresh and sharp and smells like salt and rust and, for the very first time, it feels like _home_.

Kuzuryuu is standing in the doorway behind him, shaking his head, attempting not to smile and failing utterly.

It's going to be a good day.

 


End file.
